Into My Arms
by Fixed Idea
Summary: World weary Beric Dondarrion meets a woman who gives him hope, but what about his love for Thoros?
1. Chapter 1

**(Notes: This is a multi chapter work in progress in the Game of Thrones/ASOIF fandom. Only GRRM owns the canon.**

 **This is more of a romance than an adventure and has been written in a 'bodice-ripper/romance novel" style.)**

Beric's men were hungry. Even Beric himself was hungry, and that hardly happened at all any more. Their last meal had been-when? two days ago?- and to call it a meal was being generous. It had consisted of a skinny hare and a snake, divided among five men.

Besides Thoros and himself, only Anguy remained from the original band of Brothers who had set off many years ago. Two had recently joined them, Lou the Pig (so named not because he was fat- he wasn't- but for his unfortunate laugh which sounded like a cross between a snort and a wheeze), and Manfred. Neither man impressed him much. He doubted their devotion to the cause and suspected they were only interested in adventure. Unless they considered starvation an adventure, he predicted they would disappear one night without a word.

"Beric," said Thoros. "Look at that copse of trees down the hill. Is that a roof I spy?" Beric squinted his eyes. It took a few seconds before he noticed the roof among the trees.

"Aye. I think it is. Perhaps they would be so kind as to share some food with us. Come." The five men headed down the hill towards the stand of trees.

"I don't see shit," scoffed Manfred. "A waste of time."

"Shut up," muttered Thoros. He was sick to death of Manfred's attitude, as well as his laziness. Lou the Pig was no better, really. His sycophantic devotion to Manfred, laughing that awful laugh of his every time the sod said something rude or scathing, was embarrassing to behold.

After walking half a mile Anguy exclaimed, "I see it, Lord Beric! I can make out the chimney." The cottage was certainly well camouflaged, nestled in the clump of trees. As they approached they could see the house was in disrepair. It looked as though it had been damaged by fire. One side was charred and crumbling. That part of the roof had collapsed. Beric paused and appraised the situation.

"It doesn't look like anyone has lived here in some time," he said, "and no doubt nothing of value remains. But it might be a good place to rest for the night." Indeed, the sun was about to set, and the September breeze was getting chilly. "Let's see what's inside."

* * *

Sylvie had been dozing in the chair all afternoon. She didn't do much more than sleep and eat these days, and it looked like she would soon run out of food. Fortunately, she didn't have much appetite anyway.

After hearing her family being slaughtered three weeks hence, the thought of food made her ill. She had hidden in the cabinet by the stove and listened while the invaders had broken her father's neck, stabbed her mother, and raped her older sister for what seemed like hours before stabbing her, too. Sylvie couldn't get the sounds of her sister begging for her life out of her head. She was certain the men, three by the sound of them, would hear her chattering teeth from the cabinet and do the same to her. But they hadn't.

After satisfying themselves and grabbing anything of value they could find, they hurried off. Sylvie remained in the cramped space for as long as she could stand it, afraid to see the bodies of her family and convinced the men would return. When she felt as though she could no longer breathe, she crawled out of the cabinet to face the most horrifying sight she had ever seen. The bile rose in her throat, and the spasms racked her body as she vomited until she nearly choked. Then the tears finally fell, the ones she had to suppress while hiding.

Crawling towards her father, she curled up in a ball at his side, eventually falling into a restless slumber. When she awoke later in the night, she knew she had to flee the house. There would be no one to help her bury her family. Most of the village had been burned down by soldiers four months ago.

With a presence of mind she didn't know she had, she quietly packed a sack with what little food remained and a change of clothes. Then she fled south, away from the village, not knowing where she was going. Not caring, either. She just knew she had to leave.

Not long after dawn she had found an abandoned cottage, half burned down. She almost didn't see it, hidden as it was behind the trees. She stumbled in, curled up in the main room, and cried until she fell asleep. Sylvie decided this was as good a place as she would likely find and, lacking the will to seek elsewhere, she resigned herself to staying, and dying alone.

The days passed in a blur. She prayed to the gods for death to take her, so she could be reunited with her family and escape whatever horrible fate she knew must await her. And on this evening, awakening from her doze, she heard male voices outside the door and resigned herself to the fate she feared.


	2. Chapter 2

Anguy was the first to enter the dwelling. He had to duck to get through the door. At first he could see nothing, as the only light was the fading sun coming through the door. Manfred and Lou the Pig squeezed past him. "Can't see a bloody thing," mumbled Lou. But Manfred had spotted something in the corner. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? Come out, girl. We don't bite."

The young woman remained crouched on the floor in the corner opposite the door. "I said come here," Manfred demanded. When she didn't move, Manfred turned to Lou. "Bring the bitch to me." Lou grabbed her by the arm and hauled her towards the light. Manfred grabbed her around the waist and yanked a handful of her light brown hair in his fist. "Looks like we'll have some fun tonight."

Anguy could tell this was turning ugly quickly and stuck his head out the door to summon Thoros and Beric who were deep in conversation some feet away. Before Anguy could say anything the men heard a high-pitched wail and came running. Thoros ran in first. "What is going on here?!" he demanded. Then he saw Lou and Manfred groping a girl. Her eyes were terrified. Thoros lunged at them as Beric came into the small room, sword drawn. Thoros had pushed the Pig against the wall and had a hand on his throat. The little weasel was starting to cry, "We didn't mean nothing, I swear! Just having a laugh."

"Shut your mouth," Thoros screamed in his face and shoved him harder against the wall. Meanwhile, Beric had the taller man in a chokehold from behind and his sword at the ready.

"What have I told you before?" Beric said in a low growl. His voice usually dropped half an octave when he was angry. His quiet, calm, angry voice was more frightening than another man's yell. "We do not hurt women and children. This is your last warning. Next time you and your little friend will be hanging from a tree." Beric dropped him suddenly, and Manfred fell to his knees, gasping for air. For the first time since entering the house he looked at the girl the men had been fondling. She had wild golden brown hair, and her yellow dress was stained. It looked as though they had torn it at the neckline. She was breathing rapidly and looking wildly from one man to another, clearly panicked. Beric didn't think she could be more than 16 or 17.

He bowed deeply and introduced himself. "Do not be afraid, child. We are not here to hurt you, I promise. We assumed the cottage was unoccupied and were going to shelter here tonight. I apologize for these two. They will be dealt with," and at this Beric pinned the men with his eyes. No one dared breathe.

"Who are you?" asked the young lady, still shaking. Thoros, having left Lou sniveling in the corner, drew next to Beric and answered. "We are from the Brotherhood Without Banners. My name is Thoros of Myr, and this is our leader, Lord Beric Dondarrion."

After a few seconds, the man with the freckles said, "I'm Anguy."

"And those two," Thoros continued, "aren't worth being named."

Beric ventured a little closer to the woman, his hands spread out in a calming gesture, and said, "We have no right to ask anything of you, but we have not eaten in days. If you have a little food to spare, we would be deeply grateful if we could have some."

The girl stepped forward unsteadily and looked Beric full in the face. Her eyes widened when she saw the scars and the eyepatch. He was afraid she might start screaming, but instead she nodded shyly and said, "Yes, my lord."

* * *

It was nearly an hour before Sylvie stopped shaking. Every few minutes a shudder would pass through her body. She hoped no one could see her fear and was glad to be busy in the kitchen, away from scrutiny. The tall, freckled man, whose name she couldn't remember, checked the traps behind the house and found a plump rabbit for their dinner.

I don't even remember setting the trap, Sylvie thought. As the man skinned the rabbit and roasted it on the fire, Sylvie boiled the few desiccated carrots she had, along with two large onions. She could hardly believe she would be able to provide stew for them. Since arriving at the cottage, she had not bothered to cook for herself, instead subsisting on the sickly root vegetables she was able to glean from the abandoned garden.

While she cooked, Sylvie listened to snatches of the men's conversations. The one they called Thoros was keeping an eye on the two who had grabbed her. Occasionally, she heard whispered voices from that corner. The shorter of the two, the one they called Pig, looked sick and miserable. His companion, the one who frightened her the most, glared at Thoros mutinously.

From time to time she would hear Lord Beric's voice, and she strained to make out what he was saying to the others, but his voice was too low. When she first saw his scarred face and his eyepatch Sylvie had wondered if she ought to be more afraid of him than the others, but that fear only lasted a half-second. It was replaced by...something. She did not know what she was feeling, or why, only that she wanted to be near him. His strength made her feel safe. Perhaps she was only missing her father.

Shortly after the man who had roasted the rabbit brought it to her, and as she stirred it into the stew, she felt the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Quickly, she turned and saw Lord Beric watching her. "Don't let me keep you from your work," he said. "I only wanted to apologize again for...everything. No one will bother you tonight, and I'm sorry we are using up the last of your food. Do you really live here alone? Do you have someone looking after you?"

Sylvie didn't know where to begin. The sobs and shudders she thought she had managed to stuff down exploded out, and she told him everything.

* * *

Beric was completely caught off guard when the young woman rushed into his arms and buried her face in his chest. She had sobbed convulsively as she recounted the tragic story of her family. He was moved by her plight and regretted that he had no words of comfort or consolation for her, but it didn't seem to be words she was seeking. For a few stunned moments after she embraced him, his body went stiff, and he was unsure whether or not to return her embrace. But soon he found himself holding her, stroking her hair, and murmuring useless platitudes about how she would be fine.

They were both silent now, except for the slowly ebbing sobs and sniffles that escaped her. Beric opened his eyes, wondering how he could politely extricate himself from this situation, when he noticed Thoros frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open slightly. Beric jumped and gently pushed Sylvie away. To his deep embarrassment he felt himself coloring. Hopefully no one could tell in the dim, flickering candlelight.

Thoros recovered quickly from his shock, and now his eyes were sparkling with mischief. "Sorry to interrupt, but the smell of that stew is driving us mad. Is it ready?"

"Oh! Yes, forgive me," the girl said in a breathy voice. She couldn't meet their eyes and busied herself with carrying the pot and ladle to the front room.

Beric and Thoros looked at one another, but neither spoke. Beric could see a smirk starting to play across his friend's face, so he abruptly turned, grabbing the three bowls next to the stove. "If you're so eager for your stew, why don't you help?" With this he handed Thoros the bowls and joined the group.

* * *

Sylvie sat as close to Beric as she could without actually touching him. She was ashamed of her weakness earlier, and yet, she wasn't sorry she did it.

The group sat on the floor in a circle around the pot. Having only three bowls and four spoons, everyone had to share. Thoros insisted Sylvie have her own bowl, which she reluctantly accepted. The two "bad men," as she thought of them, had been allowed into the circle, though they were ignored. The Pig looked contrite and offered her a mumbled apology. She nodded in return. The other man, though, alternately smirked and glared through the dinner. Everyone seemed to love the stew, though she knew they would have gladly eaten whatever was available.

As the evening wore on, all the men began to relax and share stories. Although she was still on edge, painfully aware that Lord Beric had not once acknowledged her presence since leaving the kitchen, Sylvie was drawn into their tales, mesmerized. To her surprise, Thoros was a priest! He did not seem like any priest she had ever seen, but his religion was foreign to her. Her family and neighbors, while not particularly pious, had followed the Seven.

But Thoros' status as a priest was not the most surprising thing she learned. If they were to be believed, Beric had _died_ , several times, and the Red Priest had brought him back. "Not I, m'lady," Thoros said humbly. "It was the Lord of Light who brought him back. I am just his instrument."

For a moment Sylvie wondered if this was some joke they were having at her expense. If so, it was terribly cruel. She turned to Beric, who was watching her carefully as if to gauge her reaction, and tried to suppress the shiver that went through her. She felt like laughing, hysterically. Beric cast a glance at the priest that seemed laden with meaning. "Go on," Thoros said quietly. "Show her the wounds."

"No, Thoros. I have no wish to scare our host any further," and glanced at her briefly before looking down. Anguy piped in immediately. "It's true. I've witnessed it with my own eyes."

Sylvie did not know what to think. It was impossible. The men all looked gravely serious, each in his own reverie, and she contemplated what it would mean if this extraordinary claim were true. Was their Fire God real? And what manner of man was this sitting next to her, who had held her so gently earlier, and was clearly marked for greatness?


	3. Chapter 3

Beric was uncomfortable under the girl's gaze, which seemed to be one of awe mixed with fear. In truth, he had been uncomfortable since their embrace in the kitchen. It had been a very long time since he had held a woman, and even longer since one had sought him out. He knew the proper response toward her should be one of brotherly concern. As young as she appeared, he was hardly old enough to be her father, but Beric knew he looked much older than his years. Each resurrection left him more haggard than the last. Surely she saw him as a father figure. Surely she would have been horrified to know the way his body had begun to respond to her touch.

And that was the strangest part. After his last resurrection his desires had completely left him. He had not felt himself grow hard in nearly a year. All his appetites were slipping away, his need for food and ability to sleep diminishing, replaced with a feeling of constant tiredness and a hollowness that frightened him.

There had not been many women to begin with. Since his second resurrection there had only been two, and they were whores. Beric was ashamed of those encounters. Every few months he allowed his men a trip to a brothel. There had been no shortage of them on their journeys. He had never felt right about using women in that way, but on those occasions Thoros had convinced him to go along, worried about his friend's increasing despair.

Thoros. That was an entirely separate matter, or at least he told himself so. They never spoke about the things they did on those lonely nights, fumbling in silence, making it up as they went along. Beric had heard of men who lived like that, but he had never considered himself and his friend in quite the same category. They were both attracted to women, Thoros often telling stories of outrageous things he had done with a seemingly endless stream of women, if the stories were even true.

Beric had never looked at another man like he looked at the priest. He knew his recent lack of interest had disappointed his friend. Sometimes he indulged the man's desire, even though Beric got nothing out of it besides the warm glow of friendship. And wasn't that enough? He thought so, but tonight his nerves were on fire, and he longed to experience those things again, with this young woman.

Could she even be called a woman? He had begun lowering his estimation of her age as he listened to her story. But when she pressed herself against him he could feel the womanly softness beneath her dress and he definitely felt like a man in that moment.

His thoughts were interrupted by Thoros' voice. "We're tired, Beric. I think it's time to sleep. Let's carry these dishes away and find everyone a spot by the fire."

"Of course," Beric replied, as he helped clear the floor. "We should let our host retire to her bed." He had seen a tiny room off the kitchen. A small bed had taken up the entire space.

When he turned to Sylvie, she was looking at him intently. Her brown eyes were unreadable, but her posture suggested indecision. And, perhaps, fear. He didn't want her to leave the room but could think of no excuse for keeping her there. Finally, she moved closer to him and said in a whisper, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

Several emotions hit Beric at once. Panic was the predominant one. Disbelief was a close second. He literally could not speak. Her shoulders seemed to droop, and, without a word, she hurried to her room and shut the door.

"What's wrong?" Thoros had clapped his companion roughly on the back. "You look spooked, and you've been distracted all evening. Lie down and rest."

Beric turned slightly to the priest and shook his head. Then he went to her.

* * *

Stupid, foolish girl! Sylvie couldn't believe she had uttered those words to him. I must be going mad, she thought. What must he think of me? Could he and his group be laughing about it now? She knelt on the bed, for there was no space in the small room to pace, and rocked back and forth. In shame and self-loathing she hit herself on the forehead repeatedly. This was something she used to do as a child when overwrought about some trivial argument with her sister, or when she felt she had disappointed her parents.

Lowering her head to the mattress, Sylvie muffled the sounds of her tears as best she could. At least, she thought, they would be unable to hear her cry. She could not bear another indignity heaped upon her.

And then the door opened a fraction. Her head snapped up. "May I come in, m'lady?" His voice. Her heart rose in her throat, and she couldn't make a sound. He came into the room, started to close the door, and then seemed to think better of it. He left the door cracked and stood awkwardly to the side of it. Sylvie had yet to light her candle, and the only illumination came from the fire in the front of the house. It made a slight halo around Beric, and his hair glowed a reddish gold, as if on fire.

He took a deep breath, and with his voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "What do you want from me? If you are frightened I can assure you that no one will bother you tonight. I can sleep outside your door if…"

"No," Sylvie heard herself say. She knew she ought to be ashamed, she _was_ ashamed, but she felt a desperate longing that threatened to undo her. "I don't want you to sleep outside my door," and walked into his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Beric was beyond thought and reason. Once he felt her head on his chest, her arms slipping around his waist, he found her mouth. She returned his kisses forcefully and pressed her body closer to his. With one swift motion he kicked the door shut with his foot and pressed her into the bed. He couldn't see a thing. Not her soft face and lips against his rough beard, not the look of her liquid brown eyes. He wanted to see her, all of her.

At the same time, he was grateful she could not see him. People recoiled from his one-eyed gaze and the deep scars that cleft his cheek. Without being able to look in her eyes he could not be certain this is what she wanted. In a hoarse voice he asked, "Is this truly what you desire, Sylvie? Do you even know what you are asking?"

She brought her hands to his face, tracing the scars.

"I know enough," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be as close to you as possible, and I don't care if that's wrong. There's no one left to disapprove, anyway."

With a sort of wonderment in his voice, he asked, "Why? How could you want this? How could you want me?"

"Why?" she asked incredulously. "Because the moment you spoke to me I felt safer than I have since...since they died." Beric sighed and felt a heavy sadness pressing down upon him.

"Do you think you have to repay me this way? Do you really think I would ask that of you?" He felt a tightening in his throat and a deep shame that he had allowed himself to dare think the girl had truly desired him.

"No! That is not what I meant, not at all." She made a noise of frustration. "What I meant is that, what I feel is…" again, the sigh of frustration escaped from her lips. "What I mean is that I have prayed for death every night since then. I have felt nothing but fear and heartbreak, and I don't expect I'll last very long on my own." Her voice was getting louder and more strained with emotion. "But when you spoke to me in the kitchen...before that, even, I felt the first bit of hope in weeks. I felt alive! And I felt things, desires, that I've never felt before. I don't want to die without ever knowing what it's like…"

Beric marveled at her words, at how closely her thoughts and feelings mirrored his own. His lips found hers again and slid down to her neck, the skin there impossibly soft and sweet. She groaned and clutched at his back. He sat up on his knees and pulled the shirt over his head before sliding her dress above her thighs. God, how he wished for some candlelight so he could see her. He slipped her smallclothes off, aware that he was moving too quickly, that he needed to get himself under control.

"You know this is going to hurt, don't you?" The memory floated up, unbidden, of the first time Thoros had been inside him. The pain was much worse than he had expected, and afterwards they were both shocked by the blood trickling down his leg. Beric pushed the memory from his mind. "Is this really and truly what you want?"

"Yes," she breathed, and reached out to pull him back down onto her. He fumbled clumsily with his trousers, pushing them down and off. He reminded himself again to slow down and resisted the urge to bury himself in her all at once. Instead, he lay to one side of her, propped up on his arm, and kissed her hungrily on the mouth. At the same time, he let his fingers trail down between her legs and felt how warm and wet she was. She trembled at his touch, her legs closing tightly around his hand. "Sorry," she panted. "I can't stop shaking."

His lips trailed down to her neck once again. He wished he had removed her dress completely so he could feel and kiss her breasts. But it was too late for that. He pushed two fingers inside her and felt the ring of flesh inside that attested to her virginity. Gently, he spread his fingers inside to loosen her up. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and asked if he should stop. "No. It hurts a little, but don't stop."

After a few more seconds he removed his hand and grasped hers. Without speaking, he guided her hand to his cock. He moaned involuntarily and felt her hot breath against his face. Her touch was tentative. She seemed afraid to explore. Her hand slipped around to his back, finding the wounds from the arrow, and then the lance. He had no sensation in the scar tissue, but he could feel the pressure of her hand. If she had been surprised by his wounds, she hid it well.

"Sylvie," he murmured. "Are you ready?" He could feel her nodding against his neck, as he positioned himself between her legs. With a wordless prayer, he felt himself reborn.


	5. Chapter 5

Sylvie could not remember falling asleep, but she must have. It was still dark, but the quality of the darkness had changed. Everything had changed. Dawn was approaching. She felt Beric's warm body behind her, his arm encircling her waist. His breathing was even and deep. Sylvie did not want to move for fear of waking the man and breaking this fragile dream she inhabited.

It's not a dream, though, she told herself, unable to resist turning to face him. Rolling over brought a twinge of pain down there, but she ignored it. The sun had risen just enough to allow her to see his face. The scars and the eyepatch made her feel a split second of unease, but it was quickly replaced with tenderness as she reached out and lightly touched his face.

Gods, he was beautiful, she thought. He looked so young as he slept, as if years of hardship had melted away in the night. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stroked his hair and his beard. He made a soft sound but did not wake up. Sylvie was grateful. She needed more time to look at him and to think about what had happened in the night.

The pain had been both worse and better than she expected. To be honest, she had not known what to expect. Sylvie and her sister had often talked about what they imagined it to be like, as they shared a bed and whispered in the night. Neither of them knew much more than the basic facts about what men and women did in bed, but they could hear the sounds their parents made sometimes, through the thin walls. Gayla had giggled nervously once when the sounds were particularly loud and difficult to ignore, but Sylvie had felt sad and confused. "Do you think Father is hurting Mum?" she asked the older girl. "Of course not!" Gayla said, as though offended.

It sounded painful to Sylvie, though she had to admit her mother and father seemed as happy as two people could be. If they were in the same room together, they never missed an opportunity to touch each other.

Sometimes, especially when her father had been drinking ale, he would grab their mother around the waist and dance her around the room. She would squeal and laugh, which made the girls laugh, too. They would rush to their da, saying, "Spin us around!" And he would, but it was clear he really preferred dancing with his wife.

The sisters were so proud of their family, of the easy affection and love. Gayla had friends who were not so blessed and told Sylvie stories of mums who cried all the time, and kids who lived in fear of being smacked around.

Sylvie sighed, pushing away all thoughts of the family she no longer had. Last night she had felt so many emotions jumbled together. When Beric entered her, the pain was sharp. She couldn't imagine how he would fit inside her, but he took his time and slowly the pain was drowned out by the wonderful feeling of being filled with him. She felt there was no separation between them, body or soul. He consumed her, and she in turn consumed him. As the pain increased with the quickening pace of his thrusts, so did the pleasure which was entwined with the pain, a strange sensation of warmth and tension, as though she had a second heart beating away in her lower belly.

And then it was over. She didn't know she had been crying until he kissed her tears away and asked for her forgiveness. There was nothing to forgive, and she told him this as he slid out and laid down next to her, gently rolling her onto her side until her face was buried in his chest. He whispered things to her which she could no longer remember. The last thing she was aware of before sleep took her was the shaking of his shoulders, as if he were silently crying.

Sylvie decided not to wake him yet and pulled ever closer to doze in his arms.

* * *

Beric's dreams were troubled. He dreamt he had been killed once again. Thoros' lips were on his, but the priest's magic did not work. His friend was crying and begging the Lord to raise him one last time.

But Beric was lost in a cold darkness. He could see and feel nothing except the icy chill. The darkness had a weight which pressed upon him. The isolation and loneliness made him want to howl, but he knew there would be no one to hear him.

He slowly opened his eyes to find he was not alone, after all. For a brief and terrifying moment he had no idea where he was and why there was a warm body nestled in his arms. The disorientation left him as all the memories of last night rushed back, flooding his mind and body with heat.

Her tangled hair was covering her eyes. All he could see were her pink lips and delicately pointed chin. Sylvie. She began to stir. He had not realized he had said her name aloud. Brushing her hair off her face, her eyes opened, and she breathed his name. "Beric." He was afraid, afraid she would regret their coupling, afraid of the inevitable parting that must come and the pain to follow.

Stronger than the fear, though, was the desire welling up in him again. He kissed her roughly, and she did not resist, her hands exploring the scars on his chest, her fingers curling in the thick hair that grew around them.

He pulled his lips away from her and said, "We don't have much time before they awake." He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. "Do you regret last night?"

"No, no," she murmured and began kissing his eyelid and cupping his face in her hands. "Please don't say you regret it."

"Never, Sylvie. And I need you again. God help me." Beric climbed on top of her, pushing her dress up again. But she closed her legs and pushed against his chest. "Stop, Beric, please," she said. He was stunned and pulled back. "What's wrong, Sylvie? What did I do?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. It's just, I feel…" she trailed off and looked distressed. "It still hurts. It burns." She looked embarrassed to say this. He never wanted to hurt her. He was ashamed for not considering this. Beric smoothed her dress down and lay beside her with a smile. He tried not to feel disappointed, but he knew that once the others woke up and looked for him, this was all over.

"You know I want to?" The corners of her mouth were turning down. "I want to very much." She was running her fingers through his hair again. It was all he could do not to beg, and he hated himself for his neediness.

"Let me see you, then. Now that it's light." She smiled and started to unbutton the top of her dress. When she had finished, he pulled the dress over her head and buried his face in her breasts. Sylvie's nipples were a rosy pink against the milky whiteness of her breasts, and Beric drew one into his mouth. She gasped and shivered, her hands on the back of his neck. His tongue trailed across to her other nipple and sucked more aggressively.

Without even realizing it, one hand moved across her smooth belly and between her legs. So warm. She moaned, and he released her nipple. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse and ragged. "Yes," she said, raising her hips slightly to grind against his hand.

Suddenly he withdrew and crawled down the bed until his face was buried in her cunt. Beric had only done this once before and could not even remember the woman, only how the feel of her against his tongue, her taste, had been enough to drive him over the edge.

"Oh, gods, what are you...what's that…" She didn't seem to have the breath to finish speaking, instead mewling and squirming beneath him, her legs tensing around him until a violent tremor shook her body and she cried out. Loudly.

Beric couldn't wait any longer. Without asking, he drove his cock into her, and covered her mouth with his, moving fast and hard until he felt the tremor that told him she had found her release a second time, and then he exploded into her.


	6. Chapter 6

Thoros woke as the first rays of light broke the dawn. His shoulder was stiff from the position he slept in, the result of five men squeezed into a small room. When he stood up to stretch, he realized there _hadn't_ been five men in the room. Where was Beric?

The priest remembered that Beric had followed the girl to her room last night. Thoros had been surprised, and thought up some dirty jests to tease his friend with when he returned, but never for a minute had he seriously believed...

Surely the girl had been crying again, and Beric was merely listening to her and nodding sympathetically. Thoros must have dropped off to sleep immediately, assuming Beric had returned to the room soon after. Had this been anyone else, say, Anguy, he would have found it amusing. He would have been happy for his friend while still taking advantage of all the teasing opportunities which would ensue.

But Beric. No. There must be some other explanation. The other men were beginning to wake, but he ignored them and headed to Sylvie's room. The sounds were unmistakable. Actually, the girl was making some noises he had never heard before. Clearly, she was pleased.

Thoros stood outside the door, indecisive. What the hells had gotten into Beric? He would never take advantage like this. And wasn't he impotent? Had that been an act? Jealousy welled up inside Thoros, taking him by surprise. What was it to him where Beric put his dick?

In a hot burst of anger he banged on the door and shouted, "Time to leave, Lord Beric!" Without waiting for a response, Thoros stomped into the front room. All three men were staring at him. "What?" he barked. "I need a piss," he said as he walked outside and slammed the door.

* * *

Sylvie's heart was still racing and her breathing had not yet returned to normal. Beric seemed shy now. Honestly, Sylvie did, too. He had rolled her facing away from him and was holding her from behind, his face buried in her hair. One hand was cupping her breast gently. Neither of them spoke.

That thing he did to her…she had never heard of it before, and she never wanted him to stop. The way her body responded had surprised her. Never before had she felt that, whatever _that_ was. And then he was inside her. She had a brief moment of fear. Hadn't she told him "no," earlier? The thought was driven from her mind as the spasms overtook her again, stronger than before. There was no pain, after all.

Beric kept his one good eye, and what a beautiful blue it was, closed most of the time. When he opened it, his gaze was so intense she had to close her own.

Shortly after they were spent, and Beric was behind her, there was a loud bang on the door and Thoros' angry voice. They both jumped at the sudden intrusion into their private world. "Bloody hell," she heard him mutter into her neck.

* * *

What the _hell_ am I going to do?, Beric thought. I shouldn't have stayed all night. I shouldn't have been here in the first place! But here was exactly where he wanted to be.

Parting from her was unthinkable to Beric, but they had no future together. He had sworn himself to R'hllor, to the cause of the Brotherhood Without Banners. What kind of man would abandon his purpose? But he also wondered what kind of man would lie with a vulnerable woman and then leave her? Sylvie had no one. Not a soul.

These thoughts ricocheted around his head in less time than it took to pull on his trousers and shirt. "Sylvie, get dressed but stay in your room." And with that he kissed her forehead and went to face the men.

* * *

Thoros was pacing furiously through the leaves. He simply could not wrap his mind around this situation. He kicked the nearest tree in frustration and regretted it when the sharp pain radiated up his leg. "Arsehole!" he yelled out loud. Whether he was referring to himself or Beric, he wasn't sure.

At precisely that moment Beric opened the door and walked towards him. The expression on his friend's face alternated between shame and defiance in rapid succession. The two men stared at each other for a long uncomfortable moment. Beric was the first to break the silence. "Thoros," he said. But that was all that would come out of his mouth. He kept opening and closing it, on the verge of speaking, but he seemed unable to make any sound. The priest knew he would have to make the first move.

"Let's walk," he said. The two men walked in silence for several minutes. It was almost companionable, like the walks they frequently took. But, no, it wasn't like that at all.

Thoros couldn't bear the tension any longer. "What has happened to you, my friend?" he said quietly, placing his hand on Beric's shoulder. After a few seconds, the man who was closer to him than a brother, pulled him into an embrace and whispered, "I have no idea."

Half an hour passed. Beric tried to explain to the priest how this happened and what he had felt in those short hours since he had met Sylvie. He couldn't believe it had been less than a day since the Brothers had walked into the cottage! Thoros tried to understand his friend's feelings. He wanted nothing more than for Beric to be happy, but this was so sudden. He hardly knew the girl. How old was she anyway? Beric had neglected to ask her but assumed she was 16 or 17. Thoros scoffed at that.

"She looks no older than 15, Beric!" His friend had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"But you yourself told me, Thoros, that my betrothed was 15 when we were pledged." Beric had no memories left of the Dayne girl and relied on Thoros' recollection of their early conversations, back before the resurrections had chipped away at those memories.

"Allyria? The reason the two of you never married was because of her age. You were going to wait two years." But after a mere six months Lord Beric had accepted the command of his king and left Blackhaven in order to hunt down Gregor Clegane, man responsible for so many wrongs. Thoros hoped the poor girl had ended up married to someone else by now. Surely she wasn't waiting for him?

"Besides, you were only twenty yourself."

"Her age is irrelevant, Thoros!" he snapped. "The problem is what to do now. I cannot abandon her."

"What?" boomed the priest. "You can't possibly be thinking about staying, can you? That's crazy! The Brotherhood needs you!" And, in a softer voice, " _I_ need you, Beric."

Beric closed his eyes, a look of great pain on his face. "I know, Thoros. I know."

The two men were silent for a while, until Thoros found the courage, or the desperation, to ask the question preying on his mind. "I thought, I mean, it was obvious, the last time we tried anything…" Dammit! he thought. I can't say it.

But he didn't need to. Beric moved closer and said quietly, "I'm so sorry, Thoros. I can't explain it. It wasn't my choice. No one was more surprised than me." They looked sadly at each other. There was nothing more to say on the subject. Soon they returned to the cottage.

* * *

Sylvie sat on the edge of her bed wondering what to do. Beric had told her to stay in her room, and she certainly trusted his judgment. She knew if she left the room the other men would stare at her. They had to know.

But waiting with nothing to do but think was increasing her anxiety. If only I had a task to do, she thought, maybe my mind would calm down. Besides, this was _her_ house, more or less. Being confined to her room didn't feel right. She decided to be brave.

When she opened the door to her room she was face to face with Manfred.

"Ah, alone at last," he chuckled, and pushed her roughly back into the room. "I underestimated you, bitch. I hadn't _actually_ thought you were a whore, but all the better." He shoved her down on the bed.

Sylvie found that her predominant emotion was _anger_ , not fear. She scooted backwards on the bed and stood up, ready to either kick him or use the bed to propel herself forward towards the door.

"You like to play, I see," he sneered at her. "I must say, I underestimated Beric, too. I didn't think he had it in him, the self-righteous _Lord_. I thought he only let Thoros ride him."

His words threw Sylvie off guard for a second, and she lost her advantage. Manfred grabbed her by her ankles and yanked her to the edge of the bed. She hit the back of her head against the wall when she fell. But now that she had something to live for, she was determined not to let this brute win. Going on instinct, she raised her legs up and drove the heel of her right boot into his thigh.

He howled in pain, "You goddamn bitch!" Sylvie almost got to her feet before he slapped her across the face. She cried out and realized she should have been screaming the whole time. Wouldn't someone hear her? Where was Beric?

Manfred covered her mouth to cut off her screams. With his other hand he was trying to get his pants undone. She bit the hand pressed against her mouth as hard as she could and tasted his blood. Sylvie felt a wave of nausea but could not let that distract her. He screamed and pulled away long enough for her to get out from under him, and she raced out of the room. No one else was in the house, and she ran as fast as she could out the front door, barreling straight into Thoros.


	7. Chapter 7

Beric and Thoros were halfway back to the cottage when they encountered Anguy and Lou taking a piss in the woods. Beric asked, "Where's Manfred?"

"I guess he's still inside," said Anguy, shrugging.

Beric felt a stab of fear. "You left him alone with Sylvie?" The men looked at each other and started running to the house. They could hear screaming and yelling from inside, and then Sylvie flew out of the cottage, straight into Thoros.

"Sylvie!" Beric cried and pulled her into his arms. She was so out of breath she couldn't speak. He saw that one cheek was bright red and there was a smear of blood on her lip and chin. "What did he do to you?"

She was still too winded to speak, but she shook her head. Meanwhile, the others ran into the cottage and grabbed Manfred. He had a knife in one hand, but Thoros easily disarmed him and dragged him to Beric.

Beric was still holding Sylvie tightly and trying to find out what exactly had happened. When he saw Manfred before him he was filled with rage. He let go of her and charged the man.

"What did you fucking do to her?" he screamed, holding Manfred by the collar and throwing him to the ground. Thoros had his sword drawn and ready. Beric had left his inside. "I asked you a question, swine!" he yelled while repeatedly slamming Manfred's head into the ground.

Sylvie had regained the power of speech and beseeched Beric. "Stop! I got away before he could hurt me! I got away." He stopped bashing the rogue's head against the ground but did not loosen his grip. It was at this point that he noticed blood running from Manfred's hand, and a tear in his trousers above the knee which was also bloody. Beric was torn between the urge to finish the man off and the desire to hold Sylvie and make sure she was really unharmed.

"Sylvie, did you cause these injuries?"

"Yes! He tried to take me, so I stabbed his leg with my boot heel and bit his hand!"

Everyone stared at the girl in surprise. Beric found his fear diminishing and instead was filled with pride.

"Thoros, bind him to that tree. We'll deal with him later." Smiling, he swept Sylvie up in his arms and lifted her off the ground. "I'm so thankful you are okay, and I am so proud of you." He smiled at her, wiped the blood off her face, and kissed her deeply. She kissed him back and then the strength seemed to leave her.

"Carry me inside, Beric." He loved the weight of her in his arms and took her to the bed, laying down beside her. He held her tightly as she recounted every detail of her struggle.

"I'm so sorry, Sylvie, that we weren't here to protect you. That _I_ wasn't here to protect you. But it looks like you didn't need any help." He smiled down at her.

"I'll always need you, Beric." Her eyes were serious, her voice a little sad. Beric knew they were back to the beginning. How could he make this work?

* * *

Thoros and Anguy guarded the prisoner. Manfred was only half conscious. Lou the Pig was looking nervous and forlorn, sitting some ways apart from the rest of them.

"What do you think Lord Beric will do with him?" Anguy asked.

Thoros snorted. "I think he'll hang him! And I will be glad to help."

Anguy nodded silently. "So…" he said after a pause.

"So…?" Thoros knew what was coming.

"So, Lord Beric and that girl?"

Thoros gave him a rueful smile. "Yes, and I'm sure it shocks me even more than it shocks you. She's not even that pretty."

"I don't know about that, Thoros. She looks sweet to me. And Lord Beric isn't exactly pretty himself, you know," he chuckled.

Thoros looked off into the distance. "You didn't know him before the scars," he said softly.

* * *

She drifted off for a short time, and when Sylvie awoke, Beric was stroking her hair and looking at her. She felt loved, but she was aware that neither of them had used the word. It was obvious, though, wasn't it? Sylvie knew she loved him. There was no question of that.

"How are you feeling, now?" He asked.

"A little sore from the fight. Tired. But, I really am alright, Beric." She put her hand on his face, tracing his scars. "Will you let me see you without the eyepatch?" He hesitated for a moment, and she thought he might say no.

"If you really want to. It's hideous." He slowly unwound the leather band from around his head. The socket was a bright pink and parts of his skin were shiny, like a burn. It looked painful. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Sometimes, it does. It itches, too."

"May I kiss it?"

He laughed. "You are a strange girl."

Sylvie put her lips gently to the spot where his eye should be. She didn't want to make him itchy, so she left one soft, dry kiss, and then moved her lips down to his and licked slowly around them until his mouth opened and accepted her tongue. "Will you make love to me now?" she asked.

He hesitated and sighed. She was immediately nervous. That was not the reaction she expected. "Sylvie, we need to talk first." No, she thought. He's going to say goodbye.

"This morning, Thoros and I had a talk."

Thoros. All of a sudden she recalled Manfred's nasty insinuation and felt herself go a little pale.

"And I told him I'm struggling," he looked down. "Struggling to decide how to do right by you."

"Right by me? What does that mean?"

"It means...I can't...we can't…"

Before he could finish, Sylvie sat up in bed and pressed her hands over her ears. She started to cry and rock, though she knew it was childish. Just an hour or two ago she had been in this very bed and fought for her life, successfully, because she knew she had something to live for again. Or so she thought.

"Don't. Please don't, Sylvie." His arms were around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. Beric rocked with her and told her that he had a destiny to fulfill. One he had not asked for and often prayed to be delivered from. Then he said, "But I can't leave you here alone, even though you impressed me today with how strong you are. I can't leave you here because...I love you."

This made Sylvie cry even harder. She turned to face him, crawled onto his lap, and said, "I love you, too, Beric."

* * *

This was not quite what Beric had planned on telling her. He and Thoros had come up with a plan on the way back to the cottage, before all hell broke loose. Thoros had suggested to his friend that Beric should stay with her for a day or two while the Brotherhood continued, slowly, on their journey. Then, Beric was supposed to find someplace for her to live, someplace safe. Perhaps a temple or a sept. Or maybe they would get lucky and find a nice family who would love her like a daughter, and Beric would say goodbye and rejoin the Brotherhood.

He told Thoros he would do this, but first he wanted to marry her.

"Are you insane?!" he exploded. "First of all, how do you know this isn't just some, some, _test_ , from the Lord? To see if you are willing to sacrifice everything."

It was Beric's turn to shout, "Sacrifice? Don't you dare talk to me about sacrifice! I have sacrificed everything. I have paid with my life, literally, time and time again!" He was out of breath and his heart was racing.

Thoros looked shocked and chastened. "You are right, Beric," he said quietly. "We have no right to ask any more of you. It's between you and our god to figure out when it's enough."

Beric closed his eye and tilted his head back towards the sky. He felt very far away from his god now. Maybe the priest was right. Maybe these desires were given to him as a test. He was having a spiritual crisis.

But he was determined to marry the girl, to make things right. When he held her, he couldn't stop himself from saying "I love you." He didn't even know if it was the truth. It felt like the truth, but maybe it was just passion. Whatever the case, he did not want this feeling to end.

Beric told Sylvie that the rest of the Brotherhood would ride at dawn. The two of them could stay and enjoy each other in complete privacy for another day or two. Then, they would catch up with the others. Only then would they seek a safe place for her to live until he could return to her. First, however, he would ask Thoros to marry them.

The only problem, he thought, is that the odds of him living long enough to return to her were very likely zero.


	8. Chapter 8

Before sunset, Thoros accompanied Beric and his men to a small grove of trees a mile away. Here they sentenced Manfred to death by hanging and carried out the execution. Manfred was unrepentant to the end and used his last breath to curse them all.

For sure, the priest thought the world would be a little better off without the rogue, but something about this felt more like revenge than justice. In the past, Beric had been stoic and dispassionate when passing judgment on the violent wrongdoers they encountered. He never took pleasure in the killing. This time, however, Beric taunted the condemned man before they strung him up. It was unsettling.

During this trial and execution, Lou had been stunned into silence. His eyes were wide with fear, and he shuddered involuntarily. Thoros had advised Beric they should abandon Lou some time the next day, once the Brothers had set off ahead of him.

The four men were quiet on the walk back to the house, until Anguy spotted a pheasant in one of the trees and shot it with an arrow. "We'll eat tonight," he said brightly. The mood relaxed a bit after that.

Sylvie was relieved when they returned, and even happier to see the pheasant. She had been cobbling together what she could find in order to provide dinner, but it wasn't much at all.

Beric looked uneasy and tired. She knew what they had been off doing. It gave her no pleasure to know Manfred had been killed. She tried to convey that earlier, pointing out that he had not succeeded in his attack on her. Wouldn't it be better to simply banish him?

"So he can go out and attack someone else?" Beric had been adamant.

Sylvie reckoned he was probably right about that, but violence was not something she was comfortable with. She knew, however, that she might have to get used to it. Violence had unexpectedly come into her life three weeks ago, and she doubted it would be leaving any time soon.

Lou looked stricken and was sitting alone against the wall. Sylvie felt sorry for him. She had the distinct impression that he had been bowed by Manfred's domineering personality. Perhaps he could be reformed, and Sylvie vowed to intervene on his behalf if necessary.

While she was plucking the feathers from the bird, Beric came in and touched her shoulder. Without saying a word he pulled her into an embrace, and they stayed like that for a moment before he released her and said she should continue preparing dinner, which she did.

An hour later they were all sitting on the floor in the main room, finishing up their meal.

"Thank you for catching the bird," she said to Anguy. He smiled and nodded.

She noticed that Thoros had been watching her intently all evening, looking away when she returned his gaze. The thing Manfred said troubled her. Was he serious or was he just trying to hurt her? Sylvie was torn between telling Beric and leaving well enough alone. One thing was clear. Beric and the priest were close, and Thoros did not trust her.

When they made love that night, it was slower and more gentle than that morning. Beric didn't seem to want to talk, but they locked eyes the entire time. What Sylvie saw there was love...and despair.

* * *

Beric woke up the next morning before Sylvie did. He watched her sleeping and tried to sort out all the threads in his mind. He had felt unmoored since executing Manfred. Normally, meting out justice neither pricked his conscience nor gave him any personal satisfaction. Beric's nature was decidedly non-vindictive.

Last evening, however, he felt a rush of hatred and adrenaline, a dangerous mix. Had Manfred seriously injured Sylvie, or raped her, Beric was sure he would have killed the man with his own two hands. He was not proud of these impulses. Meeting Sylvie seemed to have awakened many emotions in him that had lain dormant. Both good ones and bad ones. He needed to be vigilant in reigning in some of these feelings.

* * *

Before first light, Thoros roused his men so they could prepare for the journey ahead. Sylvie had wrapped some bread in a cloth for them to take, and they filled their flasks from a nearby stream. As best they could, they tried to wash themselves with the cold water. Hopefully there would be an inn in their near future where they could have a real bath and some ale. The ale was their top priority.

Thoros was very troubled in his mind about leaving Beric behind. He feared his friend would never be able to let go of this woman and return to his destiny. Surely, surely, he would return to his senses?

Thoros assumed that R'hllor meant for some men and women to fulfill their roles by raising children and converting their neighbors, but clearly Beric was not such a man. Nor am I, he thought.

"Thoros," said Beric, beckoning him over. "We would like you to marry us before you leave."

So, the man had not changed his mind, as Thoros had hoped. "Are you _absolutely_ certain?"

"I am, friend." Beric had put his hands on Thoros' shoulders, squarely facing him, and looking him steadily in the eye.

For a moment, the priest felt as though the ground beneath him had given way. He quickly recovered himself and said resignedly, "If that's really what you want, Beric."

* * *

They were married in a simple handfasting ceremony after dawn beside a roaring fire. Sylvie wore the only other dress she owned, which was mauve and gray. Although she fleetingly thought how nice it would be to wear a fancy new dress, she knew that she had the only important thing, and he was standing before her. Beric was serious and dignified, as always, but his hands were trembling. His kiss, though, was warm and lingering, and she could almost imagine they were the only people present.

Thoros' expression was unreadable. If Sylvie had to describe it, she would say he looked as though he were keeping a tight control on whatever emotions were roiling under the surface. She could understand how Thoros might bear her ill will for distracting Beric from his mission, however brief she feared the distraction would be. Even so, Sylvie sensed another reason for his discomfort, and that possibility led to _her_ disquiet as well.

Thoros surprised her, though, by solemnly taking her hand, kissing it, and saying, "Lady Dondarrion." She glanced at Beric and saw he was smiling gratefully at the priest. Then the two men embraced for what seemed like minutes but was probably much less. Sylvie thought she saw unshed tears shining in their eyes. She felt tears spring up in her own eyes but concealed them as best she could.

The Brotherhood took their leave shortly afterwards, but not before she overheard Beric asking Thoros to give Lou a second chance. Thoros pressed his lips together in disapproval but only nodded.

Finally, they were alone. The following two days were the happiest Sylvie had ever experienced, and she suspected, sadly, that this was the apex of her life. Things would only go downhill from here.


	9. Chapter 9

The sight of Sylvie in her dress, her hair brushed smooth and shining, took Beric's breath away. He could not believe he was wedding this lovely creature who sparked so much desire in him and seemed to return his feelings tenfold.

Beric was pleased when Thoros was gracious to her, and he hoped this marked a turning point in his friend's feelings about the marriage. Parting from him was very difficult, though. Painful. He knew it would be a brief separation, but even so, things could never be the same between them.

Beric cut these pointless musings off and carried his wife ( _wife_!) to bed, where they spent the majority of the next two days. He felt he would never tire of her body, or of the soft sound of her voice. They claimed each other in every way possible, save one. He would not make love to her in the same way he and Thoros had made love. It didn't seem right, though he could not have said why. He did show her how to pleasure him with her mouth, though, and it was a very different feel from when his friend had done it.

They barely had anything to eat but did not feel deprived. At night they slept on the floor in front of the fire. When they were not making love, they talked about their lives, their upbringings and dreams. Beric shared with her how very little he could remember his childhood. This made Sylvie sad, but not as sad as when he described his deaths. He could not remember the first few, but Thoros had told him the stories many times. He licked her salty tears away, and they clung to each other like death was imminent, unwilling to be parted in this life or the next.

* * *

The morning came too quickly for Sylvie. Her heart was heavy. She could hardly believe that Beric would really follow through on his plan to find her another home. She wanted to beg him not to desert her, but Sylvie knew this was as hard on her husband as on her. Almost as hard.

"Are you ready, wife?"

She loved it when he called her that. "I guess so. I've lived here less than a month, but leaving it makes me sad. If I had not come here I would not have found you."

Beric took her in his arms and said, "I'm the one who found _you_ , remember?"

"Yes. But I'm the one who seduced you," she murmured, looking down.

Beric took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up. "And I am so thankful you did. I don't think I behaved like a gentleman-"

"And I didn't behave like a lady," she said, feeling ashamed all of a sudden.

"No, but it was necessary, wasn't it? I never would have had the courage to approach you."

"Did you even want to? Did you think of me that way before I threw myself at you?" Sylvie hated that she was bringing this up now, sounding petulant to her own ears.

Beric held her tighter than before. "Yes, I thought of you that way. In the kitchen. Perhaps even before you burst into tears and sought comfort. But when I held you,

I wanted to take you to bed. I never would have asked, though."

Sylvie wiped away a tear that had begun sliding down her cheek. "You are such a good man, Beric."

"I'm not sure about that...but I am _your_ man, and we need to go now. You do know how to ride a horse?"

She froze for a moment. "But I'll just be sitting on your horse while you hold the reins!"

"Don't worry," he smiled. "I was only teasing. But I should teach you sometime."


End file.
